Dirty Deeds
by Sweetbriar
Summary: Lance comes to Xavier's Institute three years after he left Bayville, and a few secrets are torn wide open. Set post-series.


**Disclaimer: **I own nothing of this series.

**Summary:** Lance comes to Xavier's Institute three years after he left Bayville, and a few secrets are torn wide open. Set post-series.

**Author's Note:** This story has taken a very long time to write, and hopefully you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed putting the pieces together to form a coherent whole.

The mutant I introduce in this story is an Evo adaptation based on limited research the X-Men characters. Armando Muñoz, codename Darwin: his mutation is continuous adaptation to surroundings. Hopefully, most X-Men fans are familiar with Dr. Essex/Sinister: his presence in this story is limited to mentioning his activities.

This is a one-shot. A very long one, but nevertheless, I do not anticipate continuing the story beyond where it ends.

The title of this story is inspired by "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" by AC/DC.

* * *

…

Dirty Deeds

…

_Bzzz. _

_Bzzzzzzz._

_BZZZZZZ._

"All right, already." Logan stomped through the corridor, grumpy expression coupled with an atypically festive sweater. His semi-fatherly cheer from watching over the kids and their holiday festivities was gone.

It was bad enough that his charges witnessed a softer attitude on special occasions. No one outside the Institute was allowed to see it.

He sniffed and caught Half-Pint's scent ghosting along after him. She lingered within shouting distance of the rec room.

Logan's thumb jabbed the reply button. "What?"

A crackling, vaguely familiar voice snapped right back. "_I need to see Professor Xavier_."

Logan pressed another button. The two security cameras showed their live feed from outside the gates. The first was set at a higher vantage point, showing a stranger who was easily six-four and broad-shouldered. Probably male. An ill-fitting, patchy coat concealed the rest of his form. There was a large bundle in the stranger's arms, held protectively and shielded with the help of the wall. A hood and scarf covered his head, but the second camera mounted in the intercom was shining light on his face.

The faint beginnings of a beard and new lines around the eyes did not make him unrecognizable. "Well, I'll be damned."

Outside, Lance Alvers lifted his chin in a familiarly defiant tilt and pressed the button on the wall beside his head. The intercom crackled again. "_Wolverine, I'm not messing around here. Either let us in or say no_." His voice had deepened more since Logan last heard him.

He could feel Half-Pint's eyes boring into his back. She couldn't hear or see the punk from where she stood.

He debated for only a second before shoving his protective instincts down. He was curious about this "us" Alvers mentioned: he didn't see anyone else. And Chuck would have his hide if he made the kid stay out in the storm. "Don't get your panties in a twist. The front doors are open," Logan said, opening his mind enough to tell Chuck _you have_ _a visitor_.

When the gates started opening, Alvers pushed off the wall and swayed a bit too long. The figure on the screen steadied before cradling the bundle closer to his chest and heading up the driveway. He was holding that bundle awkwardly, balancing its weight on one arm. What could the kid be carrying? And there was no one following him…

Something he didn't really want to acknowledge lingered in the back of his mind.

Logan closed the gates once Alvers was through, switching off the video screen. When he turned around, Chuck was wheeling his way into the room. Half-Pint followed along, raising her eyebrows expectantly. A low rumble vibrated through his chest as he sighed. She'd see the punk in person soon enough.

"Alvers." Half-Pint gasped, the tiny sound almost echoing in the room. Logan graciously ignored it. "He said he needed to talk to you, Chuck. Apparently he has someone with him, but I didn't see anyone."

Half-Pint's expression went blank. She marched toward the front doors. Neither he nor Chuck spoke to her, only sharing a brief look with each other.

Three years ago, Alvers and his team just up and left one day without warning. Half-Pint said they broke up without a reason, which suggested that Lance was breaking ties with Bayville.

The troublesome part was that after a brief period of post-breakup depression, Half-Pint had changed in subtle ways. Ways that logically had nothing to do with the breakup. She wasn't pining away for the guy unhealthily: she went on dates and had a couple of boyfriends and to all appearances was over Alvers.

But he had a nagging feeling that the rock-tumbler had something to do with the changes. It had to do with the timing.

Her perpetually bubbly mood mellowed from outright perkiness to the kind of happiness that was tempered by something serious on her mind. That lasted for a good six months, and thankfully she began showing more of her old spirit—but the strangely solemn moods persisted even now. She could be found writing in a notebook more often than shopping at the mall. And though her friendship with Rogue remained turbulent, there was an unexplainable level of closeness (perhaps even secrecy) between them. He had caught her in silent tears out by the gazebo barely a week ago. She offered no explanation (and it took him a minute to figure out that she had avoided the question once she went back inside).

There were other unexplainable things. For instance, just before the breakup she asked Chuck to put up mental shields in her mind to keep her thoughts in. Her excuse had been to help Jean out—something the other students had taken up, and which Red had been thankful for—but. The timing.

Although she was in her second year of college, she made regular visits to her parents which were inconvenient with her class schedule. Her excuse was that they were concerned about the mutant issue and wanted to make sure she was safe. She'd go every couple of months, though: seemed to him like a lot of visits to people she didn't talk about when she was at the Institute.

And then there were the rumors that started to spread a year after the Brotherhood left, of a group of mutants working with S.H.I.E.L.D. Again, there was the nagging issue of timing.

Beyond the certainty that Kitty was hiding something, he didn't know what he suspected her of keeping to herself. Chuck was determined to give all his students the benefit of the doubt: for a man whose presence made privacy an unobtainable luxury without proper preparation, he was a stickler about allowing it when he could. As long as she didn't seem to be in danger he had let it go. But now, he watched uneasily.

She stopped in front of the doors, crossing her arms over her chest. Alvers' shape solidified in the storm, wobbling up to the doors. Logan's eyes narrowed: the kid's movements suggested that he was hurt. The fatherly part of him muttered a vicious approval; the survivalist side was instantly on guard. Mysterious, possibly untreated wounds meant unknown danger. He made a mental note to mention them after the kid had his say.

* * *

What Lance wouldn't give for a car: even his old Jeep would have been preferable.

He tried to hunch over further to block the wind; hopefully, he was still warm enough. The weather had been blessedly mild for most of the trip, but of course had become horrible this last day's stretch.

Just ahead of him, glowing light spilled out into the night. The glass doors framed a small welcoming party. He could see the metal wheelchair and assumed one figure was Wolverine standing at Xavier's side. The third was closest to the doors. The vaguely feminine form set his heart hammering—no, was it…?

Lance was on the steps when he could finally see her face. His heart reacted immediately to the sight. She was just as he remembered. Petite body, pale skin, pointed chin. He bet that the socks on her feet were made of that ultra-soft fabric she loved. Yet she was also years different from the girl he'd last seen framed in these doors, clothed in purple and black and wearing her hair loose and natural. And her expression was uncertain, displaying conflicting emotions.

If she could read his eyes, then she'd see a reflection of that uncertainty. Lance's face was frozen, the cold and his reason for coming.

At least that prevented the blush.

He stumbled as he reached the top step, numb toes connecting with the concrete. She moved when she saw him stumble, reaching forward. Her hands went through the glass like it was air, and he slipped from freezing cold to burning heat without pause. The shock of it made him inhale sharply, and the bundle in his arms stiffened in response.

He was quick to say, "Thanks." He wished there was more he could say to her, but she was Kitty. In this place, with their audience, she might as well be unreachable.

She had to swallow first, but she answered. "No problem."

Their eyes locked. He wanted—

He tore his eyes away from her. The tiny hand that grasped his arm compelled him to focus. His eyes drifted over scowling Logan before landing on Xavier. Neither looked pleased to see him, but Xavier at least did not seem unwelcoming.

He made his feet move, ignoring the fading numbness and pretending to ignore Kitty matching him step for step, shadowing him just out of the corner of his eye. "Professor. We need your help."

Xavier's bland smile was polite. "Logan mentioned—"

The bundle in his arms let out a whimper and began shaking, curling tightly against Lance's broad chest. He bit the inside of his cheek: he should have known an unfamiliar male voice would distress the kid. It startled Xavier right out of whatever he was going to say. The X-people's eyes widened at the unmistakable sound.

Logan was the one to ask. "That's a _kid_?"

The bundle stopped shaking—which Lance knew immediately was not a good thing, but rather meant sheer terror. "Daddy."

"_Daddy?_"

Prioritize. Then answer questions. Lance focused on controlling his powers as he made an effort to calm the kid. "He's not here," he murmured. "I promise, he's not here. You're okay. You're safe."

The bundle of blankets whimpered again. Lance glanced at Xavier and a flash of inspiration hit him. He tugged gently at the blankets while stepping closer to the wheelchair-bound man. Wincing at the sharp burst of pain, he knelt with an arm's length cushion of space between himself and Xavier, and finally uncovered the frightened child.

He grimaced at the familiar sight of the boy's nearly bald head. The first time seeing the kid was the worst; half torn-out hair, some stubble growing back, a thick and brutal scar winding from the side of his neck to the crown of his head. He was too thin and unnervingly quiet and so young.

The boy buried his head in Lance's neck once his safe cocoon was gone. "This is where I was taking you. This is where you'll be safe." The calm tone of his voice relaxed the boy's tight grip, and he almost sighed in relief when he twisted his head a little to peek out at the warm house. "See? You're safe. Your dad's not here." The boy's eyes were now visible—they shone silver all through, the faintest distinction of pupil and iris present only at very close range. Those silver eyes focused on Xavier, and Lance said, "This is the man I was telling you about, Professor Xavier. He's like us."

Xavier understood once he saw the boy's eyes. Leaning forward, he clasped his hands and smiled. "Hello." The boy in Lance's arms shrunk back, but he didn't try to hide. "What's your name?"

The kid's eyes fell to the ground. "Demon," he whispered. Lance's jaw tightened, a wave of anger forcing him to concentrate. His powers were still connected to his emotions, but he was forced to find a way to calm himself quickly once he left Bayville.

Xavier's eyes flickered with surprise and pain before switching back to compassion. "What an interesting name for a young man."

"I'm not."

His control slipped, thankfully only enough to send a small shiver through the ground. With practiced ease, he closed his eyes and breathed in a slow pattern of counting.

Xavier paused for a moment, though Lance wasn't sure whether it was at the slight shaking of the earth or the boy's statement. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I'm a demon."

A female hand gripped his shoulder. He could picture her face: her horror, her anger.

He opened his eyes, noting grimly Xavier's unsurprised expression. "Who told you that?"

"Daddy." Those small, metallic eyes turned up toward Lance, and he concentrated on the kid instead of the vibrations he could feel from the side corridor. Not noticing the approach of others, the kid's voice turned more frantic and emotional. "What if he finds you? What if he comes after me?"

The image of a ruined house flashed in his mind's eye. "He won't find you," he said, a dark tone in his voice he hoped the kid wouldn't recognize.

The small face stared back at him for a long moment, silver eyes blinking slowly. "Promise?"

"I promise." Kind of hard for a dead guy to hunt down anybody. "He won't find you."

"Okay." The little boy's eyes flickered to the side and belatedly realized that there were more people. He shrunk back into Lance's arms, a small whimper of surprise emitting from his mouth. He tucked his face against Lance's neck again, curling against him.

Lance sighed and slowly rose to his feet, holding the small body closer. "He's exhausted. It took us almost a week to get here."

"We can provide a room for him to rest—"

He shook his head before Xavier finished talking. "I can't leave him alone. He'll want to stay near me until he understands that no one here will hurt him."

"Then both of you, come to my study. Logan, Ororo, please join us. The rest of you, back to the festivities," Xavier said. "Hank, see if you can find some clothes for our guests."

"And a first-aid kit," Logan interrupted, tapping his nose. Lance held back a grimace. He should've known that he wouldn't be able to slip his injuries past Wolverine. At least everyone would assume it was the kid. He adjusted his grip on the boy.

The light touch of Kitty's hand on the back of his arm made him glance down. She was looking at the Professor. "Professor, may I join you?"

Xavier nodded to her. "If you wish, Kitty."

McCoy hustled off, mumbling to himself, while Munroe approached Xavier. He heard Logan growling at the rest of the students. "Get back in that room and have fun or I'll make you run a simulation." Inspiring.

* * *

Kitty rifled through the cabinet, searching for their softest blankets. The neatly folded fabrics under her fingers demanded little of her attention as she sorted through them.

Lance was _here,_ in the Institute. She certainly hadn't expected to see him, much less with a child. Of all the times for him to show up, too, he _would_ appear during their winter holiday party.

Was he back for good? She wished he could be, though chances were slim. Even if she wanted it, he had his own life now. She had made Lance promise that if he needed anything…

And he came here now: he took her words to heart. He came for help. Okay, so it wasn't for himself. But. She sighed, her hands stilling over the piled fabric. At least he was _here_. That alone soothed her aching heart.

This past week had been so difficult, not knowing what he would do once his assignment was over. Hell, the past _years_ had been difficult. The years had been marked by things she never would have anticipated: lies and secret phone calls; help from unexpected and questionable sources; and the constant worry of discovery.

And the last time she'd seen him, been in the same room…

With the ease of long practice Kitty closed her eyes and checked her mental barriers, reinforcing them. Once sure that they were as secure as ever, she closed the cabinet doors and headed down the hallway. The solid wood doors of Professor Xavier's office were almost intimidating when she knew what was behind them. She paused to knock, but decided against it at the last second. Instead, she grasped the knob and pushed.

On their way to the study, the Professor had asked if their guests were hungry. Lance requested that any meal be the same for himself and the boy, informing them that they hadn't eaten a real meal in days. The Professor had asked Kurt via mental voice to go to the kitchen for some hot, kid-friendly food, and for Kitty to grab blankets.

The others had gone to the study. Upon entering, Kitty saw Logan leaning against the wall on the far side of the room. His expression was less angry than usual, an effort to ease the fears of the terrified young boy. The Professor had rolled himself beside the couch, which had been scooted closer to the fireplace, while Ororo was seated on the couch itself.

Lance was crouched in front of the fire, carefully removing the boy's soaking over-garments. The low, soothing tone of his voice made whatever he was murmuring sound even more gentle. Mixing with Ororo's naturally soothing tone, the boy seemed far more at ease than he had downstairs. He was even looking up at her instead of hiding his face, the faintest smile on his lips.

Tears pricked the corners of Kitty's eyes as they skimmed over the boy. His patchy hair was an inky black color, and his dark skin was littered with bruises around the face and neck. Lance had removed the boy's scarf and sweatshirt, which now lay discarded over his own scarf and coat. They both wore slightly ragged long-sleeve shirts; their jeans were fraying at the hems and threadbare. They were still damp, though the fire was full-strength and Lance gently rubbed the boy's arms.

When Lance called post-mission, Kitty had wondered what would happen to the boy. She wasn't surprised that he'd chosen what he did.

All eyes turned to her as she stepped into the room. She didn't feel much like smiling, but put in the effort to keep the boy at ease.

Kitty paused behind the couch and set the load of blankets beside Ororo, then continued the long way around the couch. She didn't want to make the boy frightened by getting close to him too quickly. His eyes followed her as Ororo picked two blankets off the top of the stack. Although Kitty moved slowly, the boy shrank away from her and into Lance's arms. She slid to the floor beside Ororo's legs, putting herself at his eye level.

The boy's mutation was physical, only obvious if one looked at his eyes. The iris and sclera were solid silver, like a plate of sheet metal: surprising at first glance and slightly eerie the longer she stared into them. He shuffled slightly closer to Lance when she sat. Lance looked at her over the boy's head, rubbing that tiny back with one hand. "Hey," he said softly. "This is Kitty. She stays here, too."

She played it cool, smiling and reminding herself not to look at Lance, but at the boy. "Hello." He blinked at her, but his tense shoulders relaxed slightly.

Reaching her arms out further, Ororo murmured, "Little one, do you want to be warm? These will help. You look like you're still very cold."

"And wet." Lance took the blanket. He shook it out, draping it over the little boy. "I know it was scary but we made it. And these people are glad to see you." The boy leaned away slightly, his small hands coming up to grab the edge of the blanket. Kitty bit her lip as he pulled it over his head and tucked himself back against Lance. "Hey, why are you hiding your face? They want to see you, not a blanket. They see the blanket all the time."

The little boy peeked out at her again, and she made sure that her smile was in place the second he moved. "Lance is right. We're all very glad you're here." For a long moment, he stared. And then, finally, he moved slightly away from Lance—although, she noticed, no more than a foot.

Ororo said, "Professor Xavier told me that you introduced yourself to him and Logan earlier. May Kitty and I know your name, little one?"

Kitty prepared herself to hear the same word that she heard below, a word that shook her to the core. But to her surprise, the boy turned back to Lance and pulled himself close. He leaned up to whisper in his ear—and it was a real whisper instead of a child's stage-whisper.

Lance's obvious strain eased with whatever he had been told, and his smile was genuine instead of forced when the little boy stopped whispering. "I think so. And I think they will, too."

The silver eyes returned to them though he remained very close to Lance. Kitty felt something tight unwinding slightly in her chest as he said, "When Mama got sick, I went to stay with a nice lady for a while. Mama said she was my gran'ma and she called me Ar…man…" He struggled for a second to spit out, "Ar_man_do. And the man, who said he was my gran'pa, he called me Manny an' he was really funny. Those're what you were asking, right? Not what Daddy said?"

Her heart broke a little at the question. She bit her lip, trying her hardest to smile brightly as Ororo answered, "Yes. It's very nice to meet you, Armando. And I quite enjoyed your story." His face lit up at the praise.

Kitty nodded in agreement. "Me, too." When he smiled at her, she asked, "Do you want us to call you Armando or Manny?"

He considered for, then shrugged. "I like them both." He didn't seem sad when he added, "I liked gran'ma _and_ gran'pa and I don't want to choose one."

Her smile became easier to hold at the child logic. "How sensible, Armando Manny."

Her stomach twisted in knots when he giggled. The blanket, held up like a shield before, was now only tugged close about his shoulders and neck. He held it in the front with his hands, bunching up the excess in his arms.

A sound at the doorway caught her attention. Hank entered the room, pulling one of his privacy screens behind him. At the sight of a large new person covered with blue fur, Armando threw himself back into Lance's arms and hid his face with the blanket. He was used to those he had already been introduced to, but new additions made him retreat.

Slowly, Lance managed to coax him back out of hiding. Armando allowed Hank to give him a cursory examination: once he had calmed again he seemed quite taken with Hank's fur. The doctor got him to slip into new clothes behind a small privacy curtain; they were too big, but were also clean, dry and warm. Hank looked at Armando's injuries, asking the little boy questions. On the other side of the curtain, Lance was part of the conversation to reassure the boy that he was still there.

Logan stayed where he was like a sentinel, but Kitty, Ororo and the Professor spoke quietly about what to do next. Kitty offered the extra room in her suite for the two: she had the room, could help Armando feel more secure around all the members of the Institute as an adult and senior team member, and was quietly persistent with her offer.

She outright ignored the Professor's raised eyebrow and Ororo's hesitant, gentle prodding at her old relationship with Lance, making it about Armando. They eventually agreed with her suggestion, clearly unable to find fault with her offer and the evidence that they could see—neither she nor Lance had acted at all awkward around each other since his arrival.

Of course, this meant that they would all come up with questions. They would have expected tension in this situation, would have expected flaring tempers and discomfort. And she wasn't exactly subtle: she kept reaching out to touch him, her eyes met his with secrets hidden between them, and she obviously wasn't shaken by his presence.

She pushed the thoughts away as Kurt entered the room with a tray. Focus on Armando. She excused herself and got off the floor, walking around the couch.

Released from Hank, Armando moved straight to Lance's side. Kitty winced at the sight of his little wrists concealed in white bandages. In a T-shirt, she could see more bruises on his skin. Hank had applied a few brightly-colored band-aids to his arms and one on his forehead.

"Hey, look at that. Did Hank make everything better?"

"Yeah. Look, I got real band-aids!" He pointed at one on his arm. Lance laughed. Kitty could hear the tension in that note and understood his reluctance to find humor in the child's antics. The need for bandages at all was heartbreaking. And his innocent exclamation implied that he never had 'real' band-aids before when he was hurt, which was somehow worse.

Kitty moved slightly closer, bending down to look Armando in the eye. "Are you hungry?" she asked with a smile. Armando nodded, glancing at Kurt. He didn't shrink back from the newest person in the room, and she wondered if it was the blue fur.

She gestured toward her friend, who stood with the tray holding two plates of food and glasses of water. "This is Kurt. He brought some food up for you and Lance."

Armando hesitated. He glanced up at Lance, who said, "It's for you. If you're hungry, go eat." Lance's eyes darted around—catching on Logan, and Hank—before he added, "I'll join you in a minute, okay?"

The permission was enough. Armando wandered from Lance's side, and Kitty watched long enough to see Kurt introducing himself with his usual candor and tempting the boy to the overstuffed chair. He set the tray on the small side table, handed Armando a child-size plate, and proceeded to perch on the arm of the chair. The little boy looked up at him with wide, happy eyes.

Kitty returned her attention to Lance. Obviously, he anticipated Hank's quiet persuasion: he was refusing to change out of his ragged clothes, and insisted that he was fine. As she approached, he stepped away. Their eyes met as he walked past her. She sighed, her head turning to follow his path around the couch to take a seat within Armando's line of sight.

She bit her lip. He was in pain. It was in every line of his body as he walked and tensed his shoulders as he sat. Besides, Logan's tap of the nose downstairs meant he smelled blood. Armando suffered from malnourishment and exhaustion. He had bruises and small scrapes. The blood had to be from Lance.

Hank sighed.

She turned back around, commiserating with the doctor. "He'll let you look at him when Armando can't see."

"Yes, but that means the child must fall asleep." Hank grimaced at the untouched medical supplies, hovering but unable to make use of them. Kitty watched the little boy's slowing movements and fluttering eyes, recognizing the look. Armando was warm, anything that hurt was taken care of, his stomach filled rapidly, and he was surrounded by people with whom he felt marginally comfortable. It was no surprise that exhaustion had finally set in. A large, furry hand rested gently on her shoulder. "It won't take long, thankfully. They both need their rest."

It took Armando two minutes to eat half the food on his plate. It took perhaps a minute more for Kurt to gently lift the plate and tug the blankets up around the boy.

That same amount of time was enough for Lance to clean his own plate. When finished, Lance rested his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his hands over his face. Kitty took the opportunity to move back around the couch to take a seat herself, right beside him.

The second Kurt whispered that Armando was asleep, tension he had been hiding from the kid stole over Lance's body. Kitty could feel him strung tighter than wire and automatically placed a hand on his forearm. He tilted his head in her direction, stretched his lips in a mockery of a smile.

From the doorway came the sounds of feet on carpet and glanced over her shoulder to see the remainder of the senior team. The Professor must have called them up when it became clear Armando was going to crash. Lance glanced up as they took seats around the fire.

He only spoke to the Professor, who had rolled into the center of the group to facilitate the conversation. "Thank you." Lance looked at each person in the room. "For everything you've already done for him."

Professor Xavier clasped his hands together in his lap. "You're more than welcome. I'm certainly glad that you brought him to us."

"Did you see anything from his mind yet, or mine?"

"I do not pry without permission. Your mental shields are strong, so I did not pick up any projected thoughts either." A weary shadow passed over the Professor's face. "However, I'm afraid I've seen some children like him before. I can make a few guesses about Armando's situation. I would like to know whatever you can tell me."

Lance rubbed his face again, forehead to the stubble along his jaw. She took his hand without thinking twice, and he accepted it without glance or comment. That was fine, for she could see that he was a million miles away.

* * *

"For the past few years I've been working mostly out of the country. I move around a lot, do odd jobs, and try to stay under the radar by not using my powers."

Lance remembered the call from his employer, meeting up with the scum that made him want to commit homicide—not for the first time since he started this job, and not for the first time while he had immunity. He hadn't while on the job, almost didn't go back until a tip-off made him risk it.

"That's how I met his dad, while working. You can guess what type of parent he was, the kid thinks that he's a demon 'cause his dad told him so. But I didn't even know he had a kid the first time I met him."

Not the first time, no, but he found out the second. It went against every instinct, but two more meetings were necessary. Once that info was in his employer's hands Lance would be free for two weeks or so before he was called back in. Usually he'd discreetly contact Kitty and make arrangements. This time, he only had time to make a quick call to her before going in to get the kid out.

"The day I got Armando, I went 'round to the back entrance at his house like the guy told me. Except I was early and he was in the shed with the door open. Armando was chained up and locked in a cage. His dad was yelling at him when I got there."

His employer wouldn't be pleased with the messy loose ends. But Lance would just be chewed out when he was summoned. Fury had hated the bastard's guts, and knew what he was doing when he mentioned the _doctor_. Knew what would happen when Lance put the pieces together from his contact.

"I couldn't leave him there after seeing that, so I knocked the bastard around and took Armando. He passed out before I got to the car. I left his dad locked in the shed and I assumed he couldn't get out."

He was trained. He risked serious injury and death as a consequence of carelessness. He wrongly assumed the man wouldn't be able to break out that fast. He thought he had time to grab the files that connected this mission to his past. Miscalculation.

"I had to grab something left in the house, but before I could leave with it his dad broke out. He got inside the house and we fought again and I—my control was already so frayed, and I lost my temper." He looked at the ground, pressing his hands together tightly. Looked up and right in Xavier's eyes. "I brought the house down on top of him."

He made it sound like an accident. It wasn't. Not really.

He could still feel the man's hand grabbing his wrist as his fists pressed into the ground. His eyes had been closed and he couldn't see the face. He could feel the tremors in the earth, centered solely on the small area of land. And through the earth, he could feel the heartbeat of a monster as it beat a few more times before stopping, along with the lungs. Movement ceased.

Xavier closed his eyes. Lance turned to Kitty, who merely squeezed his hand tighter. Their eyes met, and Lance could read the acknowledgment in hers, the understanding (she pieced together his tone on the phone and what he had faced and what she knew about him) and the silent acceptance.

She knew it was not accidental. And she would have done the same.

His eyes darted around the rest of the X-men. They glanced at the child, sleeping in their midst, but it didn't take a genius to know that most people in the room still had problems with murder. That was fine: Lance didn't like it, didn't enjoy it. But for Armando, he would do it again.

* * *

The silence was broken with Logan's grunted, "One less bastard in the world."

Kitty stifled a laugh. Utterly inappropriate reactions were not good during a time like this, especially after that story. But she couldn't help it. She was full of emotion. Anyone who could do what had been done to Armando—to a _child_—deserved what they got. Locking him up? Chaining him? And, judging by the bruises and scars, beating him? He was a little boy, not an animal!

She watched as Armando moved slightly, tugging the blankets more tightly around himself.

Vaguely, she registered the Professor's wise words, reprimanding Logan for his statement while diplomatically not chastising or condemning the action. She tuned it out until she heard the Professor address Lance again. "I assume you brought him here to attend the Institute?"

"Yeah. I asked him if he had anywhere else to go, and he said his grandparents died soon after his mom. Only child, no aunts or uncles on either side." Lance shrugged. "I hoped that you would be able to take him."

"Of course. He's much younger than students usually are when invited to come here, but I'm certainly not going to turn him away if there is no one else who can care for him."

"I can help pay for him." Lance raised his hand when the Professor began to protest. "Got a few connections, I'm his legal guardian now. It was necessary for our trip here. But my life isn't stable for a kid. He needs better."

Kitty had long known the answer to the question that most of her teammates were probably thinking now. "_Fury doesn't like loose ends. He'll fix up any legal ends as long as it means that everything is golden on the surface."_

The Professor still seemed hesitant, but he backed off. Knowing him, he would secretly keep the vast majority of expenses off Lance's back: it was obvious by the look of him that he didn't have a lot of money to spare. As a(n unofficial) government agent that was standard. She also knew that he would give everything he had to helping Armando, right down to the clothes on his back.

"Very well, Lance. We can discuss details later. At the moment, the most pressing issue is that Armando will need you here until he begins to trust us. Will you stay here, at the Institute?"

Kitty's fingers dug into her knee as Lance hesitated. "I have at least another week before I'll be called back. But I never know how long I have for certain." Two weeks: the timeline that she had lived with for years. The hand still clasping his squeezed gently. He returned the pressure.

"Where would you need to go?" At his expression, the Professor raised a hand. "So we can arrange proper transportation for you, or contact you if need be."

"I'll leave a number with you, but I might be out of reach sometimes. And you can't drop me off in that big fancy jet." He shook his head. "I'll have a way to get back." Kitty fought against a grimace. Despite everything he'd been able to tell her about his job, _grand theft auto_ was still an undesirable aspect.

Logan grunted, examining his knuckles on one hand. "You said it took a week to get here, Rocky. And I didn't see any vehicle."

"We had to avoid the roads, and I don't exactly have the money to buy train or plane tickets, so we walked. Well, I did the walking."

The idea was so absurd that Kitty's thoughts ran out of her mouth before she realized it. "From Montréal?" Belatedly, her hand clapped over her mouth.

His eyes locked with hers. Apology clear in her eyes, she registered the forgiveness in his as the room around them grew very, very quiet. Sighing, her hand dropped from her mouth and she tore her gaze away from him.

Professor Xavier's eyebrows had risen quite high. She was sure that similar expressions adorned the faces of every other person in the room. Logan growled low in his throat. Lance's head dipped, as if expecting the rain of words to land like blows on his neck.

To everyone's surprise, Logan only said, "I'm sure there's a _lot_ more we all want to know, but before we get into it you should really take care of those injuries. Before they get infected."

Kitty started at Logan's blunt change-of-subject and cursed herself mentally for forgetting. In light of Lance's explanation, the thought of his physical pain had slipped her mind. Instantly, she turned her gaze on her secret lover only to see his gaze dropped guiltily to the ground. "Lance?"

He sighed and, instead of complying, said, "It's not that bad."

"Logan can smell blood." It was so typical; he'd come in wounded and neglect to mention his condition. She had plenty of experience with this side of him, and she liked it less every time she saw it.

Taking in her expression, he seemed to give it up as a lost cause. He'd seen it enough times that she knew he had to recognize it. "I'm just a little beat up."

Logan injected himself into the conversation. "And your leg?"

Kitty glared. Lance's lips tightened. "Knife," he muttered, almost low enough not to be heard.

Almost. "Lance!"

* * *

He could have dealt with the pain for a little while longer, but to be honest he was thankful Wolverine saved him and Kitty (which was weird, he expected threats and violence). Explanations could wait, and maybe they would find a moment to discuss their story before it was told.

But now, he was on the spot and recalling how much he disliked it.

McCoy hissed sympathetically as Lance's jeans fell to the ground, fully exposing the wound just above Lance's knee. It was wrapped expertly, but the bandages were old and slipping, not to mention crusted with dried blood. He had made the same noise when Lance removed his shirt to reveal the array of ugly bruises, the largest of which was situated on the top and back of his shoulder. There was nothing that could be done for the bruises except to let them heal.

He sat on the sanitized steel table, feeling a little too uncomfortable. Unable to avoid going down to the med lab, at least he had gotten there under his own power. Hank had carried Armando, who was now curled up on Munroe's lap on one of the chairs in the corner.

Kitty stayed to take him and Armando to their room once finished with the medical care. Xavier and Logan were silently watching the proceedings as if it were a particularly fascinating television show. At least he wasn't getting a full-on physical in front of the entire X-team.

Still. He had an audience.

He grunted in pain as Hank pulled the old bandage off his knee. It was only a few inches long and not too deep. And frankly it was just one more scar to add to his list.

With another pang of self-consciousness, he shifted his hunched shoulders forward even more. Being shirtless like this, in a brightly lit and sterile environment, made him want to cover up the evidence of every old injury engraved in his skin. The only person who'd ever gotten a close-up look of them was Kitty, and that was under the cover of nights bathed in heated, stolen passion. She hadn't seen them in bright light, able to fully take in the evidence of his past littered across his skin.

The pain in his leg sharpened. He glared at McCoy. Unapologetic, the blue-furred man continued cleaning the wound. "It looks like infection has not set in," he said, "and the wound has already begun healing. You are lucky, Mr. Alvers. I've cleaned it out, and we'll keep a sharp eye on it. You're no doubt in pain."

Lance shrugged. "I'm used to it, but yeah."

"I can give you medication. Logan, can you get the methadone?"

Kitty stiffened as Wolverine shuffled through medical supplies. "Um, Mr. McCoy, don't you think a Tylenol or something would be okay?"

McCoy blinked at her. "That wouldn't be quite as effective, Kitty."

"But it would work, right?" she asked. Her eyes darted sideways, catching his gaze, and away just as quickly.

He frowned for a long moment, trying to figure out what she was getting at. So the doctor wanted to numb the pain, no big deal—oh, _hell_ no.

"Well—"

"Get that thing away from me." He reacted instantly, without thought, and paid the price as a sharp stab of pain shot through his leg.

"Mr. Alvers! Please sit down!"

The syringe lay so innocently on the tray. But it wasn't some harmless object, not at all: he knew what those did to people. They caused pain and misery, and made headaches turn into migraines. They made the earth spasm because he wasn't in control. They made pain shoot straight through his spine after piercing the back of his neck. They made the world go fuzzy around him, and everything became psychedelic, and when he returned to reality he would be strapped down to a metal table.

Kitty's face appeared in his line of sight, blocking out everything else. "Mr. McCoy won't inject you with anything if you don't want him to, Lance." Her hands cupped his face, the touch delicate.

That was enough to pull him back. A gentle touch had no place in his nightmare-memories, and her expression told him that she was in control here. He flushed, clearing his throat as he pulled himself back on the table.

He wasn't an idiot; he knew that the X-men weren't going to treat him like _that_. But his embarrassing reaction had swept over him before he could think rationally. "Sorry."

"It's quite all right. I was unaware of your aversion to needles." McCoy's gaze was piercing.

"I just don't like them." Weak. _Very_ weak.

"Ah." There was an awkward pause. Lance shifted uncomfortably in the spotlight, wanting to be out of the center of attention. "Well, I suppose we could give you some pill-form pain relievers, but they won't be as effective or last as long," McCoy said.

"I've been walking on it for a week. I think I'll be fine." McCoy shrugged, but proceeded to hand over the more acceptable form of medicine. Lance took the pills and swallowed them dry, not bothering with the offered water.

"Well, as soon as I finish wrapping this up, everything will be set." A large roll of white gauze appeared in his hands. "This may hurt a little," he warned. Lance merely grunted.

Xavier seemed to take it as a perfect opportunity to finish their earlier conversation. He wheeled closer to the table Lance was perched on. "Mr. Alvers, there is much I would like to ask you, but you need your rest just as much as Armando. Come down in the morning for breakfast and you can introduce him to the rest of the students. I'll talk to them about Armando's circumstances so that they are prepared." He made to roll backwards, but hesitated. "I have no doubt you find it difficult to trust us, but at the risk of pushing, I would like to know the truth about as much as you are capable of telling us." There was no mistaking the pointed look that flickered between himself and Kitty.

Gently lowering Armando to the chair and making sure he remained asleep, Munroe nodded to him and Kitty. Then she followed Xavier as he left the room. Logan paused at the doorway to shoot a dark glare over his shoulder, followed by a warning tap of his knuckles.

The only sounds left in the room were the crackling of the fire, the sound of McCoy's fingers on the bandages, and Kitty's shuffling feet. Lance stared at his hands, trying to figure out what to do.

It was obvious that at least one of their secrets was out, and he wondered how much they even could keep to themselves. He certainly hadn't been about to spill his guts while Summers and Gray were in the room, but maybe it would be better to give a more detailed report. His job was going to raise questions: maybe flipping the bird at Fury by ignoring confidentiality was the best choice here. It's not like they were truly civilians, ones who wouldn't understand the concept of confidentiality.

But what was going on with him and Kitty…

The reasons for their secrecy were enough to make Lance consider breaking things off with her more than once, and follow through with it sometimes, too. Somehow Kitty always came back into his life. Of course, he didn't really have anyone else to turn to. But they were more open now, both of them more mature, and that made it work. Their relationship had been utterly impossible while he still lived with the Brotherhood in Bayville. Working with S.H.I.E.L.D. changed the way he and Kitty related to one another.

This dilemma had always hovered on the forefront of their minds: to tell her team, or not. It was the continued threat that made them decide against it every time—mostly because he didn't want to deal with their reactions, and she couldn't bring herself to betray his trust. He appreciated that, greatly. At times he would think that he really didn't deserve her.

He wasn't a boyfriend she could see regularly, or even dependably. He couldn't use his real ID anymore, period. S.H.I.E.L.D. made certain that his location was always unknown. Heck, his old teammates had no idea where he ever called them from: they were safe and he was a wanted man. The only person from his old life that he saw face to face, a person he jumped through hoops to see, was Kitty. And that was only possible due to chance. Her parents lived in a convenient location.

There was no hiding that something was going on between them anymore, though. They were going to have to face the music.

* * *

"We modified this wing a few years ago. Several of the older students decided to stay on at the Institute after graduation, so the Professor had it remodeled. A lot of these rooms are suites, and most have a kitchenette so that we don't have to fight over food with the younger kids." Kitty stopped in front of a door. "This has two bedrooms. The Professor meant for it to be for me and Rogue, but then Remy came back."

He laughed quietly. "Where was he tonight?"

"Visiting family. He'll be back from New Orleans in a few days." They exchanged a loaded look. She broke contact first and bit her lip, unsure of how to proceed. "Um… So." In her nervous haste, she pushed the door open and practically ran in, babbling away. "Like, I know there's at least two other rooms that are unoccupied, but they're giant suites and it's not like you'd be staying there long. And since Manny is so young and we've already kind of connected, I thought I'd kind of take care of him and it would be better if he just stayed in one place instead of getting bumped around to different rooms whenever you came to see him. Of course you don't have to stay with me but I—"

His lips crashed down on hers.

At some point during her rambling, he'd closed the door and put Armando down somewhere. Now, his hungry mouth moved over hers relentlessly, causing her to gasp—which he took advantage of immediately. Her knees trembled. The sensation after so long made her body feel weak.

When he finally pulled away, cupping her face between his hands, she was pressed as close to him as she dared. A delicious shiver ran down her spine at the sight of his darkened eyes, and his husky tone as he said, "I'm fine with this room. But is anyone going to be a problem?"

Kitty pressed a hand to his cheek. "Logan will behave. I'm an adult now—"

"Thank God."

"—And I have reasons for allowing you to stay. Besides, three years is a reasonable amount of time for us to consider moving in together." She bit her lip as he pulled away slightly, eyes no longer passionate but rather, disgruntled.

"That argument would work better if we had been together the entire time." He leaned over her small settee, scooping Armando back into his arms. "Poor kid's getting tossed around like a hot potato," he joked in a soft voice. She turned as he set off across the room, heading through an open doorway to one of the bedrooms. It was obviously unoccupied, as her door bore a whiteboard and post-it reminders.

She shook her head and sat on the couch that had just been vacated. Placing her head in her hands, she rubbed her fingers against her temples.

Three years. Her mind still boggled at the thought. He was right, though: those years were by no means full of steady devotion to one another. Distance and time had taken their toll, and they had "broken up" more than once over the years. To her shame, she'd been unfaithful; to her surprise, he admitted to mistakes, too.

Somehow, though, they kept circling back to one another—maybe because she was one of his few lifelines, and he was one of her closest, best friends. Even when she was interested in other men, ones who were physically present and carried less baggage, there was always a part of her that was Lance's, a part of her that made her drop everyone else for their random, clandestine meetings.

The chaos of his lifestyle made it difficult, but she had reached a point where she had to make a decision. And her choice was that she would rather have all of him for short periods of time than, simply, none of him at all.

His departure from Bayville had been unexpected, but his reasons were solid and she couldn't fault him for it. She could fault him for chivalry, for thinking that she'd only be safe if they were no longer together. That certainly hadn't lasted, not when she demanded he call her if he ever needed anything, not when he and the others checked in with her, not when he had needed to lean on her in the aftermath. They saw each other in person for the first time one year after he left Bayville, and she knew then that life without him was unimaginable.

The past two years were, in a way, worse than the first. Keeping secret from everyone, save two exceptions, was the most difficult thing she had ever done. No wonder she kept slipping that night: it was the first time in years that they were around people while together. Usually the two of them were holed up alone in motel rooms—no witnesses, away from the tight reins of control they kept in their lives.

She was surprised about the timing of his visit, too. They were usually not lucky enough to see each other during actual breaks, and this was doubly special. It was only days after the school semester had ended. And luckily, she had planned to spend the holiday at the Institute instead of going home. Maybe he'd be able to stay through to the New Year—there was always a chance, however unlikely.

Lance came back into the room and let his lips twitch upward into a tired smile. His way of apologizing. She accepted, standing up and moving closer. She wrapped her arms around his waist. His felt strong and warm around her back. "I missed you."

He pressed his lips into her hair. "I missed you, too."

"I'm so glad you're safe. I was worried when you didn't call me again."

"We were travelling." He settled his chin on top of her head and she could feel every movement of his jaw. "Our trail would have been impossible to follow unless he was right there when it all happened."

"What about Armando? Do you think he used any powers, even accidentally?"

Lance shook his head. "He just has the physical mutation right now. I think he's too young to have developed anything else yet. Besides, the Morlocks for helped and one of them confirmed that we shouldn't have been tracked."

Kitty nodded slowly, allowing her arms to tighten around him. She sent a silent thanks to Callisto and Evan for their help.

The silence between them grew for a moment. Then Lance sighed. "We have to figure out what to tell them."

"The truth is always an option," she ventured. Unlike previous times, he didn't immediately veto the idea. She leaned back and caught his gaze.

He looked like he was seriously considering it, but she knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't like it. He was searching for any reason and failing. Why now, she had no idea. But it made her feel both hopeful and sad.

Three years, and they were at the crossroads they knew they'd been approaching.

Something in her prickled. It may have been their constant back-and-forth getting to her, or maybe just the fact that he was here in the safety of the Institute, but she didn't want to fight about it with him. "Maybe," she whispered, "we should tell them the bare minimum."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not all of it?"

She knew it was strange; her, the champion of tell-all, changing her mind when it came down to an unavoidable necessity. "Enough shared to protect Armando, but enough hidden to protect you, too."

There was sadness in his eyes. "Half-truths?"

"Yeah." One thing she'd learned from him, though, was that there had to be some full truth out there to make the lies plausible. "I think that I need to own up to what's been going on between us these past years."

"Are you sure?"

She smirked, teasing to cover her worry. "Logan won't kill you."

He snorted. "That's what you think," he said. "He'll want to skewer me because what we'd keep secret makes me look like I'm just a bastard." His eyes were staring bleakly into the air over her head.

She placed her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look her in the eye. "You are the man I love."

His gaze softened into that loving, content look that sent a thrill down her spine and leaned down, kissing her quickly. Then he pulled back and shook his head. "I don't think it's the best idea."

The shock of his reversal was sharper than hers. Still, she couldn't deny that it would make things easier not to lie. "Why are you changing your mind?"

"Before, it was just about us—you and me. Now…" He sighed. "Well, now we have to think about Armando. Not to mention the rest of the Institute. I didn't come here three years ago because I was afraid of what he might do to me. And while I know that everyone here is safe, I still know that I'm not. I was right to be scared."

She grit her teeth, as she always did at the mention of why he had no choice but to leave. "He hasn't found you yet. Maybe he doesn't care anymore."

"I can't know that for sure. Neither of us," he said, gesturing vaguely to indicate a third person who was not with them. "I mean, he's almost positive, but that sliver of uncertainty is enough."

Kitty shrugged one shoulder. "Well. At least he'll be relieved to see you here. And he'll totally help with Armando." Lance only nodded, prompting Kitty to nudge his stomach. "Hey. I'm okay with this," she said. "You know I didn't much like keeping stuff wrapped up, either."

"Yeah, I know." He looked at her. "Full disclosure?"

"Full disclosure."

She leaned up for a kiss, which he responded to gently. Pretending not to notice the tension in his shoulders, she allowed her hands to run softly over his face. He smiled at her, and then his eyes lit up. "So, _Anne_…" She blushed at the sound of her middle name. "I finally deserve to see the inside of your bedroom, huh? I was starting to think all I was worth were anonymous motels."

"Well, _Dominic_," she retorted, slipping her hands up his chest sensually. "It's worked for us so well over the years. Cloak and dagger—"

"Secret agent and superheroine," he murmured against her lips.

"Aliases were kind of mandatory." Kiss. "As were motels." Kiss. "Our codenames were awesome."

He smiled against her mouth. "Easy to remember, and I learned something new about you." She laughed, forcing herself to keep her voice down, and carefully pulled away to put some space between them. She could see that he understood this wasn't the time to start reacquainting themselves with one another.

Before separating entirely to head to bed, Lance brushed his thumbs over her cheekbones. "I love you so much."

She smiled.

* * *

"Pass the syrup!"

"Get your hands out of my pancakes!"

"That's my sausage!"

"I'm sure it is."

"Hey! Uncalled for!"

"Oh, get off your high horse!"

"Where's my milk?"

Lance blinked at the scene that greeted his eyes. The "New Mutants", as they had been called the last time he'd seen them, were crowded around one end of the dining room table. He recognized faces, although names eluded him. The main team was grouped together at the other end of the table, a few empty seats separating them from the other students.

Seats he was sure that he, Kitty, and Armando were meant to fill. But first, they'd have to go past a veritable battlefield. And Armando was cringing in his arms, curling his face into Lance's neck at the sheer volume of noise.

Beside him, Kitty gently rubbed Armando's back, whispering to him. Across the room, Xavier sat straighter upon their entrance. A light pressure in the air—something that Lance recognized right away as psychic force—rippled through the room. The students immediately quieted and turned their attention to the door.

Guess Xavier had told them all to shut up and greet the visitors (and severely creeped him out in the process). There were too many eyes, which made Armando feel more uncomfortable. The kid practically tried to crawl inside his rib cage. Lance just held the boy close, meeting Xavier's eyes. Despite not knowing exactly how mental communication worked—and knowing that his mental shields were strong by experience—he purposefully thought as hard as he could and hoped that it would be heard. _You doing introductions, or am I?_

"Everyone," Xavier said, "we have a new student joining us this morning. Armando will be staying with us. You all remember Lance, who brought Armando to the Institute."

At the sound of his name from a voice that he knew, Armando lifted his head and gazed out solemnly from the protective circle of Lance's arms. Those who had not been introduced to him the previous night were surprisingly quiet, and their expressions friendly.

Right. Xavier said he was going to talk to them about Armando's situation the night before. That explained their reactions.

Lance adjusted the kid in his arms. Those big silver eyes looked straight up at him in confusion. "You remember what I told you," Lance said, keeping his voice softer than usual. This many people might be too much at once, but he had done all right last night. "They're like us." Debatably…

Armando peered at the assembled students solemnly, his eyes flickering from face to face. Lance glanced over at Kitty, who showed nothing but patience.

The previous night had seen him collapsing into bed despite how unclean he felt. To his surprise, Kitty curled up right next to him without showering either, and when he closed his eyes the last thing he felt was her arms around him and her back under his hand. In the morning, he was up early and she gave him things (towel, soap, and robe) for the shower. Once clean, he got Armando up and gave the kid the first bath he'd had in a long time.

Kitty showed up when they were done with that, hauling a bunch of clothes in both of their sizes. While she dressed the kid, she told him in quiet tones all about the other students.

Now, he reminded Armando that Kitty told him about these new people. She was good: the stories had done wonders for Armando's anxiety. Instead of trying to hide, the kid offered a shy smile to the room.

The students responded, welcoming, and turned back to their conversations—but at a still marginally lower volume than he remembered from his own visit here. Armando relaxed once the attention was off him again.

He did refuse to sit in his own seat, so Lance allowed the kid to stay in his lap. Kitty sat between them and the newer students. With Kurt seated on his other side, most of the tension flowed right out of the kid.

Slowly, the morning returned to normal volumes and Armando did not retreat back into his shell. Lance made sure his plate had finger foods, because Armando tended to avoid utensils like they would hurt him—he refused to think about the implications of that one quite yet. The kid remained quiet, but watched everyone with a keen interest that was pure curiosity. He even seemed to laugh a few times at some of Bobby and Jubilee's antics, though he didn't actually make a sound.

And, just like he the night before, he liked Kurt's fur. At least twice, he slowly reached out to touch his arm and retracted his hand almost as quickly. If he hadn't been looking down at the time, Lance never would have noticed. The second time he caught Armando doing it, he met Kurt's eyes afterwards. They were bright with understanding and he smiled in return.

When breakfast started winding down, Kitty placed her hand on Lance's arm and whispered that she had asked Xavier to request for the entire senior team to meet in his study after breakfast. He nodded, recalling their decision.

But having made the choice did nothing to relieve his anxiety.

* * *

Armando was a smart kid, and Lance didn't feel like exposing him to the secrets that he did not need to worry about until he was older. But it took ten minutes of quiet reassurance, and the solemn promise that he would be in the room next door, to convince Armando to stay with Jaime in the library. There were picture books stacked up between them, and Lance clapped the older kid's shoulder briefly in a firm grip to express his thanks.

Jaime smiled up at him with a look in his eyes similar to that of the newest mutant in the mansion. Seemed the bond created during his teenage stint as an X-man had lasted through the years he was gone.

With a shock, he realized that Jaime was fifteen now. And that, in turn, made Lance hyperaware of the fact that the past three years had left him twenty-two and on the run. Not exactly where he thought he would be, when he was younger and grudgingly assumed there were multiple arrests in his future. Life was pretty strange, and he shook his head at the thought as he pushed open the door to Xavier's study.

He was the last one to arrive. Eyeing the roomful of mutants, he took note that the setup today was a lot more formal than the previous night's attempt to set a young, abused mutant at ease.

The couch held Kurt, Rogue, and Grey, while Summers had taken one of the chairs and McCoy the other. Wolverine leaned against the wall again, while Munroe stood with her hands delicately folded on the back of the couch. Kitty turned her head, the only open and welcoming set of eyes in the room. She sat in one of the two stiff-backed chairs in front of Xavier's desk. The sight was somewhat reminiscent of going to see the high school principal.

A part of him rebelled strongly at the expectations he could see lining each face. It was the side of him that did not want to be here, in this mansion, and not just because he didn't feel welcome. The same side was afraid that he was followed even though to the best of his knowledge—which was pretty damn good thanks to Remy—he was not a priority.

However, he had to play nice. He'd always been somewhat revolving Xavier's, even when at times it was only because of Kitty. Now there was a kid involved. No matter what else happened, he would never be able to abandon Armando.

So he pretended that his leg wasn't stiff as he entered the room. He avoided everyone's eyes as he walked down the center, but offered a jerky nod when Munroe asked if Armando was okay. "He's with Jaime in the library. He should stay calm."

Armando had to get used to the idea that Lance would come back, and to start building trust with others. Hopefully this was a good step in that direction.

Hesitating for just long enough to make it clear that he did not want to sit, he lowered himself into the chair beside Kitty. He did his best not to wince bending his leg—it was easier that morning at breakfast, but the longer he was up and moving the more it was going to hurt. At least he had pain meds.

Xavier folded his hands together, elbows resting lightly on the wooden surface of his desk. "I'm sure that we all have many questions. However, before we ask any, I believe it prudent to remind all of us what 'confidential' means. Without the express permission of the people this relates to, I do not want these subjects spoken of to others, or to the younger members of this team."

His hands clenched into fists in his lap.

The man looked around the room, meeting everyone's eyes, before returning his gaze to Lance's own. "I would like to return to the topic we touched upon last night." The man's tone was gentle, his eyes stern, and his lips were pressed together as though he wanted to say something more before he stopped himself.

Lance turned his head toward Kitty, meeting her eyes only for a brief moment before he let loose a soft sigh. He returned his attention to the desk between himself and Xavier, and offered a mental apology to his old teammates, the friends he had not seen in person in years.

"About three years ago, a scientist came to the Boarding House." The silence in the room was unnerving, but he pressed on. "He was interested in my mutation, and Pietro's. Not so much in the others. I'm not sure why." He made an effort to relax his hands. "He said he wanted to study our powers. In exchange, we'd get enough money to pay for all the bills—which we desperately needed at the time. Pietro refused right away because he's a proud little snob. I didn't like how he seemed to know we were strapped for cash."

As he was speaking, Wolverine straightened up from his slouch against the wall. Lance watched his movements out of the corner of his eye, but his focus was on those years-ago memories.

"He came back, offering even more money each time." His lips twisted up a little, the smile not at all pleasant. "It was suspicious from the start. Then he started to say things, hinting he knew more about us than he should. And he was pretty…persistent." He swallowed hard. "After the last time he came to the house, I started to feel like someone was watching me. Pietro felt it, too. We didn't tell the others until they started saying the same."

Wolverine had moved closer, now. Lance blinked to shake his sight away from the memories, focusing on Xavier's solemn surprise.

"We didn't feel safe. So we left. Pietro and I headed south and the other three went north. We hoped he'd think we just skipped town and lose interest."

He startled slightly, glancing down at Kitty's hand on his arm, and then at her. Her eyes were full of understanding, catching easily onto the fact that his own anxiety was building the closer he got to saying what he'd never really wanted anyone to know.

She took a deep breath, apologies written all over her face, and looked back toward Xavier. "I knew about this when Lance left Bayville. At the time, he just told me that this creepy guy wanted to study them, and that he and the others were going to run for it. This guy dropped a few hints about the mansion, that we were all safe because of you, Professor, but that the Brotherhood wouldn't be even if they came here." Her shoulders straightened almost imperceptibly. "It sounded like if he thought Lance and I were still in contact, he'd try to get to the rest of you, too."

At that, Wolverine finally broke in. "You should have told us, Half-Pint." Lance met his eyes. "And we would have tried to help you."

A faint smile twitched his lips. "We weren't sure you would. And his threats seemed pretty certain. Only thing we thought we could do was run."

"Bub—"

"Logan." Xavier held up a hand, eyes still locked on Lance's face. "This man knew a lot about you before you left. Was he aware of your departure?"

Lance nodded. "He was smarter than us. He found Pietro and me in Oklahoma. I told him to use his powers and I'd cover him, fight back, and catch up to him in the next town. By tracking us down, I knew he wouldn't stop until I made it clear I would use my powers to hurt him. But he turned out to be a mutant too. Psychic powers. Pietro got away, though."

"And you?" There was a dawning understanding in Xavier's eyes, sadness and rage that he felt somewhat shaken to see. Was that for him? For them?

Lance pressed his lips together, anxiety tugging in his stomach. He felt Kitty's hand circle his wrist. "His name was Essex."

The tension in the room ratcheted up a few notches.

One of the first times he saw Kitty in person again, her eyes had been so sad and she held him as tightly as she could. He eventually told her about his own experiences, filling in the gaps between what Remy shared with the senior team upon his arrival at the Institute.

They knew the name. To give them proper warning, Remy reluctantly told them about the a scientist masquerading as a doctor (there were cages and needles and drugs), the fact that he really liked his experiments (leading to malnutrition, exhaustion, drug addictions in the lab rat mutants), and was a psychotic sadist (finding pleasure in what new and inventive levels of pain he could observe, record, and analyze).

And now they knew it all applied to him, too.

Xavier settled back in his chair. His eyes were almost too compassionate, and Lance looked away. "I actually met Remy there. We escaped together." He shifted slightly in his chair. "After he and I split up I got in a bit of trouble while trying to stay under the radar. Instead of getting arrested, I was offered a deal." He glanced over at Wolverine and couldn't help the smile that twitched his lips. "Fury sends his regards."

To his pleasure, the focus of the room shifted again as the target of his pointed remark let loose his blades, as if conditioned to respond that way to the mention of the man's name. He pointed one hand of them at Lance. "S.H.I.E.L.D. You just confirmed a bunch of rumors, bub."

"Logan." Storm glared and grabbed his arm. "Put those away."

Lance let him settle a minute, and then shrugged. "Yeah. They keep Essex off my back and away from my old team. We aren't working together for their safety, I haven't seen them in years. But Pietro's with the rest of them, and S.H.I.E.L.D. got them on board to make sure Essex won't get his hands on Pietro."

Xavier nodded, and Lance noticed his gaze was back on Kitty. Sure enough, she added her part to the story. "Fred, Todd, and Wanda sent me a message when they were free and clear. No one followed them. Pietro contacted me a month after they all left, when he and Lance got separated. But—they'd begged me not to get us involved. And I would have broken my promise by the deadline Lance and I set, but before it he and Remy escaped. And then we just stayed in touch."

And that was one amount of guilt that he knew he shouldn't feel, but which he and Kitty knew counted in the pro column for this little honesty session. At least Remy had given them the heads up, at the same time that he would have been able to tell them more detail about the creep. He hadn't left them blind to the danger by not coming here before now.

Kitty straightened her shoulders slightly. "I know I wasn't truthful about this, but telling you about Lance wouldn't have made a difference. Remy knew more about it than Lance did, with his family's connections, so I didn't keep anything vital secret. And—"

"I asked her not to," Lance interrupted. He shrugged one shoulder. "I never thought I'd come back to Bayville, and then once I was in S.H.I.E.L.D.… Well. Technically none of you have clearance to know about any of us, but considering the circumstances…"

"Which brings us to Armando." Xavier leaned forward again. "I take it from your explanation last night that you encountered him while working."

"Yeah. Under normal circumstances, any kid—human or mutant—I would have turned over to S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, who would then have put him in the system. Armando's different." Lance took a deep breath to control his temper. "One of the agents I'm on good terms with keeps me up to date on Essex. She passed me some info and I saw a connection to my assignment. He wants the kid."

Even he straightened his shoulders at the palpable reaction to that. Several different voices expressed their shock, and Xavier calmed the room with gestures before he said, "Why would he want Armando?"

"He hasn't developed any powers yet, as far as I can tell, just the physical mutation. I don't know what he might be able to do in the future—"

"But Essex can sense potential and active abilities, and the magnitude of their power," Xavier said. He leaned back in his chair slowly, soaking in the implications.

"And from his experiments, he learned how to activate them," Lance concluded. "When I asked, Armando remembered a man resembling Essex came to visit him. His dad used to be a scientist. He was fired for an undocumented reason, but possibly due to some kind of mental illness. At some point after he lost his job he started up with the demon rants and locking up his kid."

"Fury sent you in on this?" Wolverine asked. One eyebrow was raised in question.

Lance nodded slowly. "He knew I'd pick up on any hint of a connection between Essex and the dad, which I think he already guessed at. He plays fast and dangerous like that."

"And you still trust him to keep you safe?"

He laughed at the look on Wolverine's face, which suggested that he thought Lance was a few cards short of a full deck. "I trust him to keep Essex from finding me. Hiding's easy. Protecting me isn't part of the deal." His amusement disappeared and he focused completely on Xavier. "I brought Armando here because Essex is too afraid to touch any students in your care. You're more powerful than him. Besides, I'm always on assignment—I can't take care of him."

Xavier's eyes grew piercing and he had to consciously prevent himself from looking away. "If you stayed here, you would not have to rely on S.H.I.E.L.D. either. You and the remainder of your former teammates would be welcome."

He had to laugh at that. "I think we both know very well that wouldn't work out." He shrugged. "I'm also not completely sure Essex isn't still looking for me. It's too much of a risk for me to stay in one place."

"Gambit has joined us here," he pointed out.

"He's also much more certain than I am that Essex isn't going to drag him back. Remy dug up enough through the Guild to know what he could do to keep Essex away if he ever came knocking." Lance shook his head. "I can risk coming here occasionally to check on Armando after a mission, when I'm still completely off the grid. But that's it."

Kitty's fingers dug into his wrist slightly. "The others actually enjoy working with S.H.I.E.L.D. most of the time. I did suggest that they come here, despite the apparent danger, back when it all started."

Xavier nodded. And then a silence fell on the room, one which set Lance's teeth on edge. He knew that there were questions not being asked about his relationship with Kitty. Or other details about the past three years. But no one was speaking up now, not with the subject being what it was, and he honestly wasn't surprised.

He glanced over at Wolverine again, wondering what the older man was thinking. He was notoriously protective of his charges, a trait which had Lance on edge and waiting for the clawed hand to fall on his shoulder and steer him into a conversation he'd rather avoid. Funny as it was to think of him as an overprotective father, Kitty needed no one to stand up for her.

Letting himself relax into his chair, Xavier said, "If there are no more questions, I'll simply reiterate that nothing said is to leave this room." He turned his attention to Lance. "Only one of our senior team members is not present: however, I assume Remy is well aware of everything discussed?" Lance nodded. "Then, thank you, Lance, Kitty—" he looked at each of them in turn "—for being honest with us. I speak for everyone when I say that it is understandable why you kept so much secret."

Rustling movements behind them indicated that everyone else was standing, or moving to leave, but Xavier's final words made Lance tense right back up. "Mr. Alvers, a moment more of your time, if you please."

He didn't hesitate to nod in acceptance, but the last bit of anxiety returned. Turning to Kitty, he quietly asked her to go check on Armando. She agreed, patting his hand with hers before standing to leave. She ushered everyone else out in front of her, closing the door after glaring at Logan exit the room in front of her and leaving Lance alone with Xavier.

Shoving his worries about the kid out of his mind for the moment, Lance returned his full attention to the man behind the desk.

* * *

Closing the Professor's office door behind her, Kitty pulled her shoulders back at the sight of the lingering forms of her friends. Rogue shot her a sympathetic look behind their backs before continuing on down the hallway, tugging Kurt along with her. She caught the end of Jean's shared look with Scott, as she was turning to accompany Ororo to the downstairs common areas to check on the younger students of the Institute. That left, unsurprisingly, her father-figure and older brother of the Institute with matching crossed arms and serious expressions.

Kitty crossed her own arms and tilted her chin up defiantly. "Ask your questions."

Scott adjusted the glasses perched on his nose. "How long have you been back together?"

At least he wasn't starting out by asking if they were together the whole time. That would have gotten her defenses raised faster than anything else she was prepared to hear. While it wasn't exactly pleasing that she and Lance were obviously still close to her teammates, at least they seemed to have remembered that she had been on dates and in relationships since Lance left. "Consistently? About a year. On and off for two."

Scott nodded as if that answered some unasked question he had in his mind. He paused, obviously casting a glance at Logan, before replying, "You've both grown a lot since he left." She waited, eyebrows raised as she waited for him to add something else, but he simply shrugged. "I wish you hadn't thought that you needed to lie to us."

She bit her lip. That, she did feel sorry for. "A lot of it wasn't my secret to tell. And the personal stuff was my business. If it had ever been a question of safety for the Institute, I would have broken my promise and he—they—would have understood. But when they left, they weren't sure we would help, and he scared them bad."

Logan grunted. "With what we've heard 'bout him, I'm not surprised the threats made 'em run."

"I'd have run in their place," Scott agreed.

Kitty wrapped her arms tighter around herself and lowered her voice, even though she was sure Lance wouldn't come out and overhear her. "I don't think anything different would have—" she cut herself off, shaking her head. "The others were, and are, fine. But—well, Lance and Remy reacted to their shared…ordeal in similar ways. He didn't want anyone to pity him."

"I can't fault you for keeping his private stuff private, Half-Pint." Logan's lips pinched slightly, obviously unhappy. "I just also wish you didn't have to deal with it by yourself."

Kitty's lips twitched up slightly. "Well… I had Rogue."

"Rogue knew?" Scott sounded honestly shocked.

She laughed at his affronted expression. "Not until Remy opened up to her more than he did the rest of us, told her the name of his anonymous escape partner, and she approached me because Remy knew we were still in contact. It was something we kind of shared."

Scott nodded in understanding. That seemed to answer his questions, but Logan edged closer with his expression still relatively dark. "And just how close is your relationship?"

She sighed. "Logan."

"I know he spent the night in your—"

"Logan…"

He finally let his arms unfold and engulfed her in a large huge, which she quickly accepted. "I know. You're an adult. I get it, Half-Pint."

Somehow…she was certain that he did understand.

* * *

Finally freed from the wood-paneled office, Lance let his shoulders relax a little more at a time as he quickly approached the library doors.

There had been no need to feel anxious about his private conversation with Xavier. The conversation was more or less mundane, avoiding anything sensitive. They covered what Armando's place at the Institute would be like, costs that Lance would—or rather, could—cover, and what Lance's schedule looked like as long as he was on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s payroll.

He also made sure to mention certain undesirable aspects of his job, such as the danger and the illegal activities that were more or less ignored as long as the end goal was accomplished. Brutal honesty about the nature of his job went a long way with Xavier. And Lance made sure to emphasize that he was legally Armando's guardian, and that he would like to remain very much a part of his life. This was accepted with grace by the man in the wheelchair.

Leaving the room, he'd felt more or less accomplished. In retrospect he could see how much more difficult attempting to lie would have been in this situation. It was also completely unnecessary, because now he was certain that Xavier would take care of the kid while he was away. And if something happened to him…well, the kid would still be taken care of very well.

Pushing open the library doors, he let a faint smile of relief come to his lips as he saw that Armando was quietly curled up beside Jaime on one of the comfortable chairs. The kids had a picture book between them, lowered as they both stared up at Kitty with wide, happy eyes. She perched on the edge of the armchair, her hair falling over her shoulder and her lips curved up in a playful smile. Armando looked especially comfortable, and Lance felt a curl of satisfaction.

Despite the deal he had made with S.H.I.E.L.D., Lance was also doing something important as he hid from the monsters outside the Institute gates. He liked what he did, but would have given it up if Armando needed him. Lance was even willing to deal with the X-Men in close range to do that, a thought that had startled him.

It looked like he wouldn't have to, not yet—the kid was starting to trust others. He liked it here, and he liked who he had already met. In the future, though, Lance might have to make that choice.

Kitty was doing well with classes and X-Men duties and living full-time at the Institute. She said that she loved the Institute and it felt like home, but seeing her here resolved any lingering fear that the threat of Essex had inadvertently trapped her where she was safe. She was happy and alive in this place. Armando would be, too.

Maybe someday he'd settle down. Stop running. And if their home was here, then his might have to be, too.

That was nowhere nearly as uncomfortable a possibility as it would have been years ago.


End file.
